At the moment of Fagun

Cuckoo sings on the branch in tunes, are filled with southern bay
Eager to look to the sky, whatever one wants.

Sitting on the bank of a calm lake, the bard in a bored way
After leaving this village, which way will he go?

Woke up in the shining morning, the early sun
Gently opens the eyes, a nocturnal in the forest.

Slowly slowly flows the river, towards the sea
It is going on indefinitely, till it reaches the destination.

Coming and going of magpie, running all over the field
On the dew-drenched grass, the village farmer walks.

Caesalpinia pulcherrima spreads its color, at the moment of Fagun
The sweet fragrance of Amrapali, filled the entire forest.

The little girl woke up, with a smile on her face
I love the face, that is full of affection.

(Fagun is a month of Spring in Greater Bengal.)